Apples Don't Fall Far
by spinninground
Summary: Between being raised by Cross and being one of the Noah Clan, Allen Walker had the deck stacked against him. This is a look at how he could have turned out, in a meandering drabble-ish way. Yaoi included: some Poker Pair to snack on, plus fun side pairings.
1. One Love

**One Love**

Sometimes, Allen wondered why he was here. He'd been young and stupid when he first came to the Order. To be fair, his master had held up a hammer, and he'd learned, slowly but surely, not to mess with his master. In fact, he didn't even need the hammer to convince him to leave, because it meant getting away.

So when he asked, "I take it you're not coming with me," that tremor in his voice wasn't out of fear, but fragile, fragile, hope. I hope to god you're not coming with me. The idea of being able to spend his time feeding himself rather than an alcoholic redhead's debauchery was the most appealing thing since he'd wanted to bring Mana back.

But oh no, he'd learned his lesson. Things that seem like wonderful, fantastic ideas are usually the worst. Bring your father figure back from the dead at the cost of screaming his name? Worst idea ever. So, likewise, run away from the crazy general and that growing pile of bills? Probably also a terrible idea. For all he knew, some sort of divine justice would smite him, likely in the form of cold hard steel in Cross' pimp hand. And everyone knew that he had two.

Still, he'd come to the Order, and even after he felt certain that his master had moved on to some other continent and was thinking about anything but him, he felt like he could stay. There was something he liked about being here, and it wasn't Lenalee's legs, Kanda's sexy blue hair, or Lavi's eyepatch. In fact, the more beautiful people were, the more he distrusted them. Men, especially.

After all, his outlook was entirely skewed. Cross was known to be an extremely attractive man, and yet to him, he just looked like any of the bilious Akuma that he blew up on a regular basis, except he could never blow his mentor up, no matter how hard he tried. And, oh, he had tried. He hadn't gained all that skill for nothing. Each pass while sparring was in earnest, training hard for the day he could run away knowing that there was nothing his master could do to bring him back.

He'd disliked that stupid blue exorcist instantly. Threatening him with the lower register of his voice and looming like that, before he'd even had a chance to step inside. It was simply terrible manners. And his masculinity was slightly threatened by that menacing baritone, made only slightly better by that ridiculously silky ponytail. The hair really was Allen's favorite feature of Kanda's, but only because his own hair was so much manlier. And yes, it was a contest.

Lavi was slightly better. Even though it was obvious that he was also good looking, he wasn't nearly as beautiful as most of the main characters. Even the mad scientist wasn't bad looking, though Allen's favorite thing about him was that floopy hat. It was as though Komui knew how to set Allen at ease, since he made a point of wearing that hat every day, which made him seem utterly harmless. Anyways, Lavi would quickly become Allen's closest friend here, simply because he was safely disfigured, so he only had one glimmering green eye to charm people with. And Allen trusted that more.

Nonetheless, none of these people were the reason he stayed. He didn't really think that they'd made a particularly informed decision when they'd decided to follow god. After all, if that god had really been worth his salty godliness, then perhaps he could've equipped them all with Akuma-defying machine guns complete with Akuma repellent vests, so that they wouldn't have to die every time an Akuma puked on them or whatever.

No, his reason for staying was because there was something he'd never had before at the Order.

There was a sparkling man who listened eagerly to everything he had to say, and never grew tired of hearing him ramble on. He satisfied every single one of Allen's needs, and even complimented him while doing so. It was the best situation that he'd ever come across, and there was no way he was leaving this place. Each time he had a mission, he finished it as quickly as possible and high-tailed it to his favorite place in the whole world: the window to Jerry's kitchen.

Even now, the chef was paying rapt attention to every syllable that fell from his lips as if trees would grow and birds would sing from his words alone. The bliss that surrounded them was perfect, and Allen would swear that a bloody rainbow was hovering right between them, because the world was at peace. Until- _thwack._

Allen rubbed his head, before remembering not to glare. Lenalee was here, ushering him away from his extremely compelling conversational partner. But it was okay, he'd gotten his last words out, and he could survive without his daily compliment. She was talking to him, and pony-tail and one-eye were there too. Out of all things, he definitely wasn't here for the friendship. In fact, he hadn't known that they were friends until Lenalee had harped on about it for over an hour, emphasizing each point by hitting him in some way.

Really, how was hitting someone an indication of camaraderie? If anything, it was confusing. It's like attempting to train a dog to do something and rewarding it by thwacking it instead of giving it a treat. And Allen loved treats. Just like that tray of treats that was going to that Finder's table. He wiped the drool from his chin.

"Now then, Allen," a flamboyant voice essayed forth. "Here's what you ordered!" With a flourish, everything he'd asked for was set in front of him, an array, a smorgasbord, a cornucopia of never ending delight. And Allen settled down to spend some quality time with the most necessary and beloved thing in his life, that made all the fighting and killing worthwhile: food.


	2. Soul Sister

**Soul Sister**

People were always so easy to fool. An innocent smile and some pleases and thank you's later, they were all putty in his hands. He never underestimated the power of good manners. It was one of the first skills his master had taught him, because back then he'd been too weak to handle any real weapons. But this first weapon was still one of his deadliest, as he opened his wide eyes and did his best not to smirk unbecomingly.

"What about you, boy, are you in?"

Allen smiled. It was a very cheerful, nonthreatening smile, because he'd practiced it that way too many times for it to ever slip again, after that beating in the alleyway.

"Oh, yes, please." With one hand, he shoved the approximate amount of dough into the center, surreptitiously also bringing some back in his sleeve.

One by one, his competitors folded. And no one could ever find out what the smiling boy was doing behind that cheerful exterior, calmly pocketing cards and money left and right without anyone being the wiser. They were even less angry than the first marks he'd grifted, because nowadays, he had the common courtesy to make the pile appear smaller by taking from it beforehand so that they wouldn't feel like they were losing so much at the end. He was shaping up to be a true gentlemen in every respect, and he was sure that these fine friends saw him as a model they wish they could emulate.

There was only mild grumbling as he swept what looked like a moderate final sum off the table, bowing to his erstwhile companions, who had lost more money than they'd seen on the table that night. But it just wasn't his night, because there was another player in the house tonight.

A smooth, practiced shuffling created the perfect arc of cards flying from one hand to the other. Like Allen, this pro wore gloves, and like Allen, he sported a flawless smile. It was elegant, playful, and inviting.

"Care to sit for another game, boy?" Another shuffle, then a swipe of his hands spread the cards on the table, facedown and mysterious.

Allen shrugged carefully, not wanting all his winnings to clink inside his clothing. Then he graced his newest mark with his trademark smile, announced his delight and sat down for an extra round. He couldn't win much more and still be able to keep it all hidden in his clothing, so this guy was getting off easy. Some stray onlookers sat down as well, ready to play now that a new game was starting.

Allen tapped two fingers on the table. _Hit me._ Again and again, around and around they went. The dealer won frequently, but Allen always got his cut.

The mound in the center never grew too large, and the dealer was beginning to eye him suspiciously, even though everyone else was elbowing everyone but him and accusing each other of cheating. And through it all, Allen smiled, the dealer dealt, and the game went on.

After the fifth time the stakes were raised, someone kicked Allen's shin. As they went around again, and people either folded or raised, the kicking grew more pointed. Golden eyes and an arched eyebrow carried a message for him: quit making the pot smaller. Allen simply smiled bemusedly in his direction, as though nothing was going on. A coin fell from his leg onto the ground, then another. The smile didn't slip an inch, but Allen was starting to worry. The kicking had to stop.

Soon it was just Allen and this dark dealer, who had obviously made him. A loss would be wisest, he decided. But, as luck would have it, he held winning cards in his hands, and he didn't carry anything but more winning cards up his sleeves. Shit. He folded.

It was impossible, but that manicured eyebrow crept up even higher, and a smooth, cultured voice said, "No, no, that can't be true. You've been on a hot streak all night, and they don't just end like that. Show me your cards."

"Some things aren't worth knowing," Allen attempted.

But the man simply flipped over the cards, and laughed, knowing full well he was right. " Ah, looks like you've won, my little friend. Here, take this with you." He kindly gathered up the modest sum, and deposited it into Allen's hands, where it remained. He had nowhere to put it.

A long plume of smoke flowed out from the dealer's mouth, as he tilted his head back and gazed down at him. "What's the matter, are you that reluctant? Don't worry, I can take the loss." Seeing Allen make no move to put any of it into his occupied pockets, his smile grew wider. "How admirable. Come on then, I'll walk you home."

One gloved hand met another, as Tyki removed all the money from his hands. "I'll even carry your winnings for you." He winked, knowing that this new acquaintance would be unable to refuse.

Caught between abandoning part of his hard-earned take and letting this stranger accompany home, Allen's brow ticked. This guy didn't seem likely to mug him, and he'd kept quiet about everything else so far. What was the worst that could happen? Still, the man had skills, and Allen was extremely wary of his good looks, due to his aforementioned phobia of good-looking men.

But, then again, Allen glanced at his money sitting in the dealer's palms, and the words came out as naturally as though he'd never had any misgivings.

"Thank you, sir, it's always nice to make a new friend." And they shook on it.


	3. Imagine

**Imagine**

Without General Cross, Allen would not be who he is today. Not that he was convinced that was a good thing. But in the face of this new development, it was his only lifeline, so he repeated it to himself, hoping to drown out Komui.

_Without Cross, I would not be the man I am today. Without Cross..._

Lavi was next to him, twirling his hammer like a schoolgirl twirls a pencil. Sure, his hammer was the size of a pencil, but Allen would never treat his god-given Innocence like that - mostly because it was in his arm, and his arm had to be detached in order to be rotated around his fingertip. And maybe not even then.

It could be worse. He could be going on this futile Cross retrieval / Cross protective detail mission with Ponytail, but thankfully, the wannabe samurai had his own father figure to find. Besides, Allen did owe Cross for all the various life lessons, without which he would - oh. Right. Without which he would not be the man he is today.

"This mission could decide the fate of our world. If you should encounter the Heart of Innocence..."

_Scrape._

Finally, Komui was standing, and after needlessly straightening out what Allen was pretty certain was a sheaf of random papers from the piles on his desk, the Head of the European Branch handed it to Allen and Lavi, and wished them a good trip.

Allen hadn't heard most of the briefing, but he was pretty sure he could fill in the rest. The gist of it was: find Cross. Find the Innocence. Don't die. Plus something about the universe and a war for the world, but honestly, he could just rewind Timcanpy and listen to it if he really needed to know. Not to mention, Lavi seemed to have tried some of Lenalee's coffee or something, because he jumped up as soon as Komui was done, dragging Allen out and cheerfully waving before shutting the door.

Wasn't history a dark subject? How did Lavi stay so upbeat every day? Did he just wake up everyday on the right side of the bed? Wouldn't the right side of the bed be the left side, so that Lavi could actually see? Even now, half singing to himself, there was an added bounce in his step. It meant that keeping up with Lavi required a slight trot from him, which was not at all because he had shorter legs. It was okay though, because he'd been a bit lax in pretending to be interested in what Komui was saying, ever since it became lunchtime. He could feel his stomach gnawing at itself. It was going to eat itself and then him if he didn't get to the cafeteria soon.

Still, his politeness meter was dropping. Maybe it was time to leave the Order for a while anyway, and recharge so that he could come back to acting like the perfect apprentice turned exorcist. And unofficially adopted son of an alcoholic, tax-and-debt evading womanizer.

_Du du du dudu-du du. _

Allen ignored Lavi's pseudo-dancing in favor of finding the quickest way to feed his parasite - er, parasitic Innocence.

"Lenalee!" He waved at a pair of green pigtails that were close to the front of line to Jerry's window. Not that there were many pairs of long, flowing, green pigtails in the Black Order. His gamble paid off when she turned, and he ignored grumbles as he blithely sauntered to her side, bypassing the majority of the existing line. Kanda was also there, looking disgruntled at being reduced to doing something as courteous as waiting his turn behind some Finders.

"I was hoping I'd see you here," he said, with Lavi in tow. It really was a blessing. Disaster relief in the form of sustenance. "We have a new mission, and I guess Lavi's pretty psyched."

Lenalee looked like the picture of feminine concern. Sometimes Allen wasn't entirely certain she didn't take on all the female roles after all the other female exorcists had died off. Except Miranda, but everyone was a bit worried that she would sleep deprive herself into a coffin. And Klaud Nine, but she had a giant _monkey_, damn it. A Simian. Were the Guardians girls? Or ghosts? God, he was going to wind up gay with such strange female options. He really needed to get out more.

"You'll be careful, won't you, Lavi?" She turned her large, caring eyes towards the redhead, who was stand-dancing in line to the beat of his own drum. "I've heard the number of Akuma out there has increased lately."

"Yeah, don't worry, Lenalee." He was brandishing his weapon for emphasis. With the air of someone imparting a secret, he elaborated, _"_Do you know why? Because they'll have to **stop**_ - for hammer time__."_

They all heard it, sneaking into their brains like a worm through the ear: _Du du du dudu-du du._

"Che."

"They," he continued. "Can't touch this." No shame from the one-eyed exorcist. The hammer found itself resting against the ground and danced with like a cane.

"Wanna bet?" Kanda growled.

Allen took advantage of their distraction and Lenalee's large, developing, sweat drop to sidle past them to place his order.

"Yuuuu~" Lavi drawled, "Can't touch this."

Allen turned just in time to catch the surly exorcist taking the hammer-wielding idiot _down_, and proving that song all sorts of wrong. Really, it was like baiting badgers. Briefly, as they smashed into his newly completed order and some cards mysteriously rained down on the brawl, the white haired exorcist wondered if he would ever meet that smooth-talking Portuguese man again. This was followed by a long period of time spent giving Jerry a revised order, with additional items to compensate for the added hunger from having to wait yet again.

When the broken plates and wasted food were cleaned up and Allen's stomach had finally been satisfied, Lavi found himself in the Black Order's sick bay coughing up mild amounts of blood, completely incapacitated in terms of embarking on the mission they had just received.

Which is how Allen ended up leaving with Lenalee.


	4. Light My Fire

**Light My Fire**

He woke to the familiar scent of smoke winding around him. It was warm and comfortable, and the bed was far too plush to be his. A hotel? That meant his master was going to crash in and pass out any moment now. But he was already here. Allen could feel the warmth of a body next to him, around him. Holding him.

"Master!" Allen yelped, nearly knocking the cigarette into his bedmate's eye, before the thudding of his heart subsided. This man was not master. This disheveled hunk of a man was the wrong color. And his heartless master was bristly, and this guy was smooth. Like, waxed and moisturized smooth, as clearly evidenced by the missing, perpetually open shirt. And for some reason, his stomach was telling him that the man smelled like cinnamon and butter.

"Um, no," Tyki replied, even as Allen's sudden spasm ripped warm sheets off of him, revealing that the shirt wasn't the only garment he was missing. And that the same went for Allen. "This happen often with your master?"

The white-haired exorcist reddened, gathering the sheets to him like a shy virgin before returning to Tyki's warmth. "No," he mumbled against a collarbone. "It's just - " he waved a hand at the smoke before purloining it for a drag.

Tyki's curious golden eyes watched him as he began a graceful exhale, only to burst into hacking. "Never done that before, huh?" Reclaiming the stub, he instructed, "You need to breathe."

Courteous and compliant as always, Allen watched him as he closed his eyes and inhaled, following suit naturally, and pouncing on the man while the cigarette burned out on the floor. There was only one thing that was off, and Allen glimpsed the box before they both went down, and it was that those were the wrong brand.

* * *

The first time they had met on the battlefield, the exorcists hadn't even made it out of Europe yet. Yet there he was, as tall, dark and handsome as the first time they'd met.

"I'll take him," Allen called back to Lenalee, leaving her to deal with the hordes of Akuma while he fought his way to the cloud of butterflies. He really needed to get his radar checked; how could he have doubted this guy's sexuality? He chose to keep it to close range combat, though he couldn't stop his eyes from dropping and dwelling on those fabulous pectorals that the Noah chose to flaunt.

"See something you like?" He'd drawled, twitching his torso just barely out of the way as Allen swiped at him again. A button came off. "Now, now, boy, this isn't a game. An eye for an eye, you know?" And a few buttons later, Tyki was shirtless and behind him, hand over his heart and whispering into his ear.

"Allen!" Lenalee shrieked, rocketing over with her high-powered boots, as Tyki made an exit worthy of a ghost.

Gathering his wits from where that sensual murmur had displaced them, he looked around wildly and "searched" for the Noah with his party. The difference was, Allen knew exactly what he was looking for, and when they split up again, he headed straight there, and found him waiting with a bottle of wine.

There was no question about it; his new friend had the potential to be a major player, but he didn't care. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes surrounded him, and he felt safe, and more than a little aroused. By the time the Noah made his move, Tyki's fingers were already practically in his mouth. And Allen was too inebriated to remember to remind himself that he did not have a faux-father complex, while he responded to the demands underlying Tyki's persuasive tones.

After that, it was no surprise that the Noah trailed them from city to city. After all, how else was Allen supposed to rendezvous with part-time lover? It just so happened that they each had jobs that enabled them to coordinate their travel times, spending no more than a night apart.

In fact, once, when Tyki needed to blow off some steam after watching over the twins for a day, he'd stormed Allen's cabin with a few hundred Akuma, and they'd left Lenalee to fight them all night long. She'd been pretty pissed about missing her beauty rest, but it also meant that Allen could sleep in the next day without arousing any suspicion, since she needed to as well.

Sometimes, Tyki would send him a talking or singing playing card, and Allen would bring him small items, like a pair of handcarved dice, and they would sneak off into the darkness, where Tyki would let him kill a few Akuma and spend the rest of the time buried balls deep in his young exorcist.

Last night, Allen had sent Timcanpy back to tell Lenalee that he would be spending the night away, "hunting" the Noah. That he wanted to keep the trail hot. It was the first night they'd spent together, and it had been a long, pleasurable one. And if the word "daddy" had slipped from Allen's lips a time or two, Tyki made no comment, and merely reminded him of the correct name to scream. In that characteristic, Allen and Tyki were alike: they enjoyed being properly addressed. Nicknames were probably not in their future.

While wearing the tight pants he normally wore had been worth it yesterday, ensuring that Tyki's hands were satisfyingly eager, right now they were practically crawling up his ass, spreading him in a way that made him feel like his pants were getting a tad too intimate. From the way Tyki was watching his motions, he'd probably anticipated the discomfort, lowering his eyelids to watch him dress in order to make it back to his party.

"As much as I enjoy the sight of you," Allen said, as he returned and knelt to kiss the part of Tyki he most appreciated, catching the gratified smirk in his peripheral vision, "Would you like to get dressed and see me out?"

"Mmm." Tyki snagged random garments, since his wardrobe was completely interchangeable, paying far more attention to how Allen attempted to transform his limping gait into something resembling a swagger. He succeeded admirably.

"Oh, and before I forget," Allen reached into his coat and slipped something into Tyki's clothing. "Here. I like these more."

Tyki looked down at the pack Allen had tucked in his waistband. His eyebrows rose as he recognized the brand.

Well, didn't that bring back memories.


End file.
